


Sweet Wonderful You

by Glitter_Bug



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: (Well he's getting there), (with some help from Steve!), Fluff, Harringrove Heart-On, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Romance, Soft Billy Hargrove, Steve does not believe in narwhals, Stuffed Toys, Swearing, Valentine's Day, and he believes in love, and that's good enough, but he believes in Billy, mix tapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29337864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitter_Bug/pseuds/Glitter_Bug
Summary: Billy discovers Steve's biggest secret five months into their relationship.It's not the monsters.That one comes out before they're even together.It's also not the hairspray.Billy finds that the first morning he stays over.It's not even the fact that, although he usually orders take out or heats up a frozen dinner, Steve can actually cook like a pro.Steve saves that reveal for exactly one month after they get together.No.The biggest secret is Steve’s damned stuffed toy. His little dog. The saggy, baggy bean filled sack of love that he’s had since he was tiny.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 40
Kudos: 157
Collections: Harringrove Heart-On (2021)





	1. Ain't Nothing But a Hound Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The biggest secret is Steve’s damned stuffed toy. His little dog. The saggy, baggy bean filled sack of love that he’s had since he was tiny.  
> And, of course, Billy has to find it while he’s rooting around under the bed. Steve wants to kick himself for being so...enthusiastic when he ripped away Billy’s clothes earlier, because now Billy’s hunt for his missing shirt has turned into the ultimate embarrassment for Steve.
> 
> “Hey, uh Stevie?” Billy calls, holding the dog aloft and wiggling him in the air, “Didn’t know you had any pets.”
> 
> Steve can feel his blush grow, and he grins sheepishly,  
> "Oh, yeah that’s...that's Elvis.”
> 
> Billy’s cocky smile grows even more, "Elvis?"  
> "Yeah,” and Steve wants to kick himself again for letting that slip, “like y'know, 'you ain't nothing but a hound dog'."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pure and utter Valentine's fluff with the tiniest bit of angst thrown in.  
> Boys being sweet and silly and soft.

Billy discovers Steve's biggest secret five months into their relationship.

It's not the monsters.  
That one comes out before they're even together. It's not like it's a secret anymore anyway, not really, not now Billy's been through the MindFlayer and the goo monster and seen just how damn fucked up Hawkins really is. Steve figured that he deserved an explanation. Deserved to be helped through it. Deserved something more than the spiel from the guys in suits before they forced your signature on some terrifying non-disclosure agreement. So Steve tried. He sat by his bed in that damn creaky chair and started from the beginning. From Barb and the pool. He’d explained it all. And Billy listened and nodded and took it all in and then replied with a single, solitary, ‘Fuck’.  
That made Steve laugh. Longer and harder and realer than he had in ages, with Billy joining in after a few seconds, both of them laughing until they were gasping for breath.

Until Billy’s laughter had started to sound more desperate, more hysterical, and Steve watched in horror as Billy sobbed openly in front of him. Desperate tears that wracked his body and had him tugging out handfuls of hair as he curled his aching body into a ball and just...broke.  
So Steve held him while he shook and whispered reassurances and promises.

And helped him through that part too.

It's also not the hairspray.  
Billy finds that the first morning he stays over.  
After Steve finds out exactly what Billy's got waiting for him at home and a few things start to make sense, Steve offers him a place. A space. A guest room and a spare key for whenever he needs it.  
Billy takes up the offer after only a week back at Cherry Lane, turning up on Steve's doorstep with a timid knock and a bruised cheek, asking if the offer still stands.  
In the end he doesn't use the guest room.  
Steve's can't face the hassle of sorting out fresh sheets, and his bed's big enough for two, anyway.  
It all feels right when their hands meet under the covers, and their fingers entwine and Billy pulls him closer to whisper a 'thank you' against Steve's lips.  
It feels even better when they wake pressed together, Steve's arms around Billy, their legs entangled and their lips barely inches apart.  
By the time they're done kissing, Billy's hair is even more mussed from the pillows, but when he comes out of the bathroom, his curls have never looked better and when Steve presses another round of kisses into them, he recognises the scent of Farah Fawcett spray instantly.

  
It's not even the fact that, although he usually orders take out or heats up a frozen dinner, Steve can actually cook like a pro.  
Steve saves that reveal for exactly one month after they get together.  
A month in which Billy's been staying over more and more, a month in which kisses and hand holding has progressed into more heated territory, and ‘Hargrove’ has given way to ‘Billy’ and ‘Bill’ and, more often than not, ‘sweetheart, babyblue, Bee’.  
And maybe it's dumb to celebrate a month anniversary. Maybe that's not even really a thing. Maybe Billy will freak out because it’s too much too soon.  
But it's been the best month of Steve's life, and he’ll be damned if he’s not going to celebrate that feat, at least.  
And it's worth all the mess, worth the round burn on his wrist when he misjudged a pan, worth the constant stream of _bullshit, too soon, scare him off_ running through Steve’s head when he sees Billy’s stunned expression at the table laid with finest china and a pristine white cloth, a couple of bottles of expensive wine standing beside two crystal glasses.  
It’s worth it when Billy takes his first bite of carbonara, lets out the kind of moan that goes straight to Steve’s dick and says, “Damn, baby- if I’d known you cook as well as you fuck, we’d’ve spent a lot more time in the kitchen.”  
It’s worth it when they curl up together on the sofa, too full for anything more strenuous than an episode of Dynasty, and Billy turns to Steve with a fleck of sauce on his cheek and the most satisfied grin Steve’s ever seen, and plants a soft, chaste kiss on his lips before falling to sleep against his shoulder.

No.  
The biggest secret is Steve’s damned stuffed toy. His little dog. The saggy, baggy bean filled sack of love that he’s had since he was tiny.

And, of course, Billy has to find it while he’s rooting around under the bed. Steve wants to kick himself for being so...enthusiastic when he ripped away Billy’s clothes earlier, because now Billy’s hunt for his missing shirt has turned into the ultimate embarrassment for Steve.

“Hey, uh Stevie?” Billy calls, holding the dog aloft and wiggling him in the air, “Didn’t know you had any pets.”

Steve can feel his blush grow, and he grins sheepishly,  
"Oh, yeah that’s...that's Elvis.”

Billy’s cocky smile grows even more, "Elvis?"  
"Yeah,” and Steve wants to kick himself again for letting that slip, “like, y'know, 'you ain't nothing but a hound dog'."  
It's a terrible impression, but Steve curls his lip and thrusts his pelvis just right to get Billy licking his lips, and Steve thinks he might have got away with it.  
Until Billy spoils it all with a snort and a ‘dork’ , so Steve reaches down to throw the now-found shirt at him,  
"Shut up, man, I was like...five. It seemed cool."

Billy’s snort turns into a fond chuckle, "Oh yeah, so cool."  
He slips the shirt on, leaving it unbuttoned, and makes Elvis pad all over the covers.  
“So does this poor little guy live under the bed then? Or do you just boot him out to make room for me?”  
Billy turns Elvis’ head to look up at Steve, ‘ _Don’t worry Steve, I like it down there, chasing all the dust bunnies and chewing on your crusty socks,_ ’ Billy puts on some cute raspy Scooby Doo voice, and Steve bites down on his smile.  
' _And thanks for leaving those pornos there too. Got a real boner over those, ow-woo!_ '

Billy tips back his head in a howl, and Steve can’t fight the smile anymore but he reaches over to swat at Billy’s shoulder, “Don’t be gross,” he snatches Elvis back, resisting the urge to give him a quick hug before placing him down on the desk instead, “Elvis is innocent. Pure. To be kept away from you and your...corrupting influence.”

“You love my corruption,” Billy leers, all bedroom eyes and flicking tongue, “And you’re the one who wanted to try that thing with the ties and the-”

“Hey, yeah, no, no. NOT in front of Elvis,” Steve snatches the dog up again, pretending to cover his droopy ears, “He’s heard enough.”

Billy just laughs, “Oh, I bet this little pup heard more than enough back in the days of King Steve. God, the thing these button eyes have seen. He lost his innocence years ago Stevie, trust me, poor thing’s gonna need years of therapy to-”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Steve huffs, “Anyway, you must have something too?" He steps over to sit beside Billy on the bed, "Some teddy or something? C’mon, who do you cuddle up to when I’m not around?"

Billy freezes at that, and Steve knows he’s hit a nerve, but before he can apologise, Billy’s sneering, "No way, I didn’t keep any of that sissy shit. Neil made me throw ‘em out. "

Steve looks at him. He can see the old Hargrove mask starting to slide back onto his face, and he reaches out a hand, slowly, to rest on Billy’s thigh.  
"It's not sissy, Billy. It's...you were a kid. Kids can have teddies and stuff like that."

  
Billy’s defenses lower a inch, Steve can tell by the way his shoulders slump, but he’s still tense,  
"I had 'em, I just. I don't have 'em now. 's fine, Stevie. It wasn’t... I had to grow up after Mom. That’s all. Dad... Neil, he told me he was proud of me for getting rid. He bought me a baseball glove and we played catch for hours that day.”  
Billy’s smile is small, and pained, but it’s there. And though Steve hates Neil even more for now, he doesn’t want to taint what little bit of happiness Billy has been attaching to the memory. He lets the topic drop, but he also puts Elvis casually down onto Billy’s lap, making no comment when Billy picks the dog up and starts stroking its dingy fur.

***  
It's later, when they're curled up in bed, after they've brushed their teeth and discarded their clothes again, making the most of a night when Steve’s parents are away and Billy had no curfew, no looming expectation to be home, no need to hold back and keep one eye on the clock.  
It's after all of that, that Billy lets Steve in a little bit more,

"There was one toy I kept," he says into the darkness. "Bubbles. My...my mom got him for me."  
  
"Yeah?" Steve asks. And that's all. He knows it’s best to wait. To leave the space open for Billy to continue. An invitation without expectation.  
So Billy does,"He, uh, he was special, I guess. Slept with him every night. And, uh, when mom and dad...when they used to fight. I would, I would hide with him under the covers, pretend we were under the sea or something dumb like that."  
Steve nods, not sure if Billy can even see him properly, but it's enough, Billy keeps talking,  
"Neil found him after mom left. Said I needed to grow up. Get rid of my baby toys. That's what...it started the whole thing."  
They're already close, but Steve moves even closer, sliding a hand along Billy's arm as he keeps talking,  
"I couldn't. I couldn't get rid of him. Not with the others. So I hid him. Stuffed him right at the back of a drawer. And then I felt bad, thinking of him all sad and alone with my stinky socks so one night I went and got him out, cause I wanted...I wanted…"  
He tenses up, and Steve can tell Billy’s struggling. That he can’t quite force himself to say the word, so Steve says it for him.  
  
"A cuddle?"

"Yeah. But...uh. I fell asleep and didn't...I didn't put him back and...my Dad. He...he found him. He wasn't...he wasn't happy. I, uh, I guess you can imagine." Billy tries for a laugh, but it comes out choked.  
He’s not crying, not quite, but Steve can tell from his voice and from the tremor in his hands that he's close.  
So Steve wraps his arm around Billy and lets him be small, lets him curl his body around and hide his head in Steve's shoulder and just. Be.  
It’s progress that Billy does. That he lets Steve feel the wetness against his skin while Steve stokes his back, fingers tracing idle patterns, drawing simple shapes- spirals, fluffy clouds, love hearts and figure eights- while Billy pulls himself back together.  
It doesn’t take long. Billy soon lifting his head just enough to look at Steve with narrowing eyes,  
"You drawing a damn dick and balls, Harrington?" he huffs, and Steve's laugh ruffles his curls as he finishes the shape he’d been tracing onto Billy’s bicep,  
  
“Trust you to spot that one,” he grins, and Billy smirks back,  
“Pervert.”  
  
Steve laughs again, but there’s still a sadness lurking in Billy’s eyes, and Steve wishes he knew how to help. How to take it away."I am sorry about your toys, Bill. You know you didn't deserve that, right? You should’ve been allowed to be a kid. A little kid."  
It’s something he’s trying. Reminding Billy that it’s nothing he did, that he’s not to blame for all the shit that happened. Sometimes it’s the big things, his mom leaving, Neil’s ‘lessons’, the MindFlayer. But often it’s simple, Moments like Billy getting antsy if they forget to do the washing up after dinner, or panicking if he turns up a few minutes late. Things Billy thinks of as normal reactions to situations that he hadn’t realised had hurt him until he had the space, the safety, to look back and process them.

Billy swallows and nods, "Yeah. Yeah. It's fine, Steve. Was a while ago, I'm not...I'm ok."

But Steve notices the way Billy’s hand reaches up his chest and brushes against his necklace. He doesn’t say anything, there’s no need to draw attention to it, but Steve knows what it means.

"You could always borrow Elvis, anytime. He gives good hugs,” Steve keeps his tone jokey, but he hopes Billy gets the meaning behind it. Anything he wants. Anything Steve can give him. At all. Anything that would help. It's his.

Billy responds with a small smile,  
"Nah, baby. Don't need anyone else to hug. Got all I need with you."

And God, that makes Steve’s heart sing. He loves it. Loves hearing Billy letting himself be soft and sweet and...sappy. It took a while, took plenty of missteps and misunderstandings and slammed doors and angry tears and assertions of ‘not a fucking pussy, Harrington’.  
And Steve understood.  
But he kept trying. Kept presenting Billy with loving words and gentle touches aimed right at Billy’s armor and, bit by bit, he worked his way into the cracks of it and tugged until it fell away and set him free.  
And Steve knows that while free means open, for Billy it also means vulnerable.

So he makes sure that Billy feels his happiness as he presses kisses into his curls,  
“Yeah, you got me, babyblue. Forever and always, OK?”  
Billy murmurs an agreement, and Steve kisses him again, thinking about a younger Billy, the kid who had to grow up so fast. Who had every single fucking comfort ripped away from him. Pictures him, all big blue eyes and angelic curls, clutching on to a cuddly...fish? Turtle?

"Hey, baby?" Steve murmurs, barely lifting his lips from Billy's curls, "What kinda animal was Bubbles?"  
He can't believe he didn't ask it before, but he hadn't wanted to interrupt.  
  
"A narwhal," Billy whispers, showing no sign that he thought it was an unusual question.  
  
Steve cocks his head to the side. Knows he's doing that 'damn adorable puppy dog head tilt', as Billy calls it, but he can't help it, "What's a narwhal?"

"It’s a whale. With a big horn on its head."

Steve pauses for a minute. The name isn’t exactly familiar, but the description reminds him of something. His head is filled with an image, an illustration from a storybook or maybe a cartoon he watched as a kid, he’s not sure. He can’t shake the phrase, ‘the unicorn of the sea’.  
"Oh, cool. Was he one from a book? Or a film or something?"

Billy pulls back a little, looking at him with confusion,  
"No. What?" he shakes his head, "No, Stevie. Just a normal narwhal. I dunno why my mom liked 'em so much but she said it was her dream to see one some day."

Steve’s heart breaks at that, thinking of Billy’s mom telling little Billy all these fairytales. Stories to keep him smiling when she wasn’t around, a glimmer of hope for him to cling to, so he could think of her tracking down mythical creatures and adventuring to unknown lands, rather than the more likely truth of her settling down and starting another family. Letting Billy think that she’d been drawn away by the lure of the magical, instead of having to face that fact that a mother could just up and leave her own child.  
And Billy’s smiling again, so Steve’s not going to bring him down,

"That's cute, my Nonna said she used to see fairies in her garden, right under the apple trees."

“Huh?” Billy’s brow is crinkled, and his eyes are doing that squinty thing they do when he’s trying to figure out how to marry Steve’s response up to the conversation they’d been having. Steve decides to help him along,

"Just...y'know, like your mom believing in narwhals. It's sweet."

He sees the moment it clicks for Billy, a furrowed brow giving way to twitching cheeks as Billy tries to suppress a grin,  
"Steve. Stevie. Darlin’," he closes his eyes for a moment and then opens them to look right at Steve, “You know narwhals are real, right?"

And, oh, ok, it’s some kind of shared delusion. Billy inherited his mom’s curls and her love of the oceans and a belief in mythical creatures.  
He tries to break the news gently, “No, baby, really, they’re... No they’re not.”

He can see Billy biting his cheek, face growing redder and eyes watering as he’s clearly trying to stifle a laugh. Progress, Steve thinks. Billy from before would’ve been laughing in his face. Would’ve called him an idiot, a moron, a stupid hick. Not even to be mean, but purely because he found it funny and had no reason to hide it. Billy now is at least trying not to do that, even if it’s taking him a lot of effort.

And maybe that’s why Steve doubles down on his argument, maybe that’s why he plays it up a bit. He wants to show Billy that he’s not hurt, that he can have fun with this. And anyway, he’s right.  
"Billy, they're really not. They're like...unicorns or mermaids. Kids’ stories or whatever."  
  
Billy shakes his head, having finally controlled his urge to laugh, "No offense Steve but, you’re not exactly a marine biologist."  
  
“And you are?”  
  
“I know more about it than you.” Billy puffs out his chest, and it’s not even an argument, because Steve knows he can win this one.  
  
“Oh, ok then, Professor fucking… Ocean. Have you ever seen one?"  
  
"Well. No." Billy admits, "They live at the North Pole or something."  
  
Steve's grin grows wider. He’s got this in the bag, "Oh yeah, real convenient. Living with Santa and the reindeer, right? 'Cause, Bill, I've got some more bad news tonight."

Billy gives him a little shove, a gentle push at his shoulder, "Shut it. They're real. Definitely. I'm right. I'll fucking prove it."  
And he wiggles backwards, away from Steve and- despite Steve’s protests- out of the covers, padding over to Steve's bookshelf.

Steve leans up on one arm, leaning over to flick on the lamp and watch as Billy stands scanning the books. It’s adorable, seeing him in the flannel pyjamas bottoms he borrowed from Steve after his own boxers got too messy. There’s something sweet about the way that the hems are about half an inch too long, bunching up over Billy’s bare feet, and Steve can’t help but look at the way the material pulls tightly around thick, muscular thighs.  
He lets his gaze travel upwards, taking in the way Billy’s muscles flex as he stretches his arms to flick past old school books, pristine copies of Romeo and Juliet and Death of a Salesman, a few well worn Mad Libs books and a bundle of comics borrowed from Dustin and never returned.

"How do you not have an encyclopedi-aha!"  
Billy reaches up onto his tiptoes and pulls down a thick, heavy hardback. Some huge 'Children's Encyclopedia' that Steve thinks must have been a gift from one of his many aunts or uncles.

Billy turns straight to the index, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth as he runs a finger down the pages, "L..M..ah, N...Na... Nar...there."

Steve can’t actually believe he’s still doing this, and he shakes his head and gets up too, shivering at the chill in the bedroom and quickly moving to stand behind Billy and wrap an arm around his waist, resting his chin on Billy's shoulder,  
"Baaaby," he whined, just a little, "Come back to bed."

  
"No." Billy's still flicking back through the book, "Because I know I'm right."  
  
"Yeah but I'm right here." Steve tries, his hand tracing a patch down Billy's bare chest, fingers skimming down across those divine abs. He rocks forward on his heels to press his crotch firmly against Billy's ass.  
Billy hums, leaning back into Steve's hold, but his eyes never leave the book, and Steve’s about to move his hand lower, make his intentions even more obvious, when Billy gasps and spins around in his arms.

"Here! Look! Narwhal! 'A small toothed whale found along coasts and in rivers throughout the Arctic.' Hah. Real."

He holds the page up so that Steve can see, jabbing at the tiny text and accompanying picture, before slamming the book shut in triumph and dropping it onto Steve's desk with a slam.

"Knew it," he smirks, spinning around to grip Steve by the hips, "Told. You. So. Real."

He punctuates each word with a kiss across Steve's cheeks and nose, before dipping down to press another, more heated one against Steve's lips.

Steve smiles into it, tilting his head as Billy's mouth makes its way down his throat, "Ok, ok, baby. You were right."  
  
"Damn right, I was right," Billy growls, "say it again."  
  
Steve raises an amused eyebrow, "That does it for you? Really? Me admitting you were right about something."  
  
"Fuck, yeah." Billy licks a stripe across Steve’s collarbone, “Music to my ears, darlin’”  
  
So Steve says it again and again and again.

*****


	2. Dumb But Thoughtful Seems Worth a Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Nancy he'd bought roses, chocolates, expensive jewellery. All gift wrapped perfectly, tied with red ribbons and neatly labelled with heart shaped tags, but it doesn't feel right to do that with Billy. Not that he doesn't want to shower Billy with expensive gifts, because he does. Wants to give him everything he never had, anything and everything he wants, hell, he'd buy out the entirety of Melvald's seasonal aisle if he thought Billy wanted that.   
> But he knows that Billy doesn’t. And while Billy probably wouldn’t run from it, not now, it’s still not...right. Too packaged. Too...glossy. Too thoughtless.
> 
> And Steve thinks about Billy a lot.

It takes until mid January for it to dawn on Steve that Valentine’s Day is coming up.  
And then, when it does, when he spots the first heart shaped chocolate box appearing on the Melvald’s shelves, he panics.  
Because Steve had always followed his Dad’s example.  
The more money he spent, the more proof of his love, and the more problems could be swept under the carpet for a few more weeks, at least.

With Nancy he'd bought roses, chocolates, expensive jewellery. All gift wrapped perfectly, tied with red ribbons and neatly labelled with heart shaped tags, but it doesn't feel right to do that with Billy. Not that he doesn't want to shower Billy with expensive gifts, because he does. Wants to give him everything he never had, anything and everything he wants, hell, he'd buy out the entirety of Melvald's seasonal aisle if he thought Billy wanted that.   
But he knows that Billy doesn’t. And while Billy probably wouldn’t run from it, not now, it’s still not...right. Too packaged. Too...glossy. Too thoughtless.

And Steve thinks about Billy a lot.

Until, with only a week to go until Valentines’ Day, Steve finally comes up with a plan.  
He starts by making enquiries. Ringing round toy shops, gift stores, anywhere he can think of that might have something, anything, narwhal related.   
They're all dead ends. A few confused managers and lots of eager salespeople offering him dolphins, sharks, whales and even a couple of unicorns- which furthers Steve's belief that the damn narwhal doesn't actually exist, encyclopedia be damned.   
And then he remembers aquariums, but even then, even with the damn places that specialise in sea creatures, it takes him four attempts before he gets anywhere. Until he’s put through to a very confused sounding salesgirl who finally understands what’s he after _and_ has something in stock. Of course, it’s just Steve’s luck that the aquarium is a few cities away, at least a four hour drive there, and that’s if he’s really flooring it and there's no traffic and he doesn’t get lost even once.

He tries to buy it over the phone, gets his credit card ready and then offers to post out a cheque or send a few bills in an envelope, whatever it takes, but the girl on the other end of the line just seems perplexed, and he knows that her calm and patient customer service voice is hiding rolling eyes and a shaking head and a lot of ‘get a load of this idiot’ hand gestures. Steve’s worked retail. He _knows_. Steve settles for getting her to put one aside for him, to save it until he gets the chance to come and collect it.

And there's the next problem. Because Steve doesn't have that many days off coming up, and he’d pencilled Billy in for every single one of them. And while he could pretend he's been roped in for a long shift, a very long one, there’s a chance that Billy would stop by with lunch or coffee or even for a sneaky kiss in the backroom. Because his damn boyfriend is just _that_ sweet now. Plus Steve doesn't want to lie to Billy like that. They don't do that with each other.

But Steve has...ways. Or, at least, he has Dustin. Dustin who doesn't even need to hear the destination before eagerly agreeing to a trip into the city with Steve. So now he has an excuse. One that Billy will grumble at half-heartedly but not really mind, because Billy gets that Dustin and Steve’s friendship, unlikely as it is, is a real one. A solid, important bond for both parties. Billy might not get why, exactly, but he gets that it _is_ . And that’s enough.

The plan works. Billy rolls his eyes and huffs and complains and then gets up early anyway to see him off with a kiss and a freshly made thermos of coffee for the road. Because his damn boyfriend is that sweet now.

They make it to the outskirts of the city in five hours, just under. Steve had forgotten to calculate Dustin’s need for a pee break every half hour, and then he’d discovered that the actual bit of road with all the confusing bits was right on the crease of the map, so he’d gotten a little turned around a few times, and _then_ he’d nearly driven into a tree when Dustin had gasped dramatically at spotting a New Hampshire licence plate.

But they make it, and Steve feels the cold prickle of nerves as he pulls into the aquarium’s parking lot. It’s silly, but he just wants this gift to be right. Wants to do something good for Billy. 

"Gotta make a quick stop, wait here."

Of course Dustin doesn't, getting out of the car and following Steve with an endless stream of questions. 

“Steve? This is an aquarium. Why are we at an aquarium? I thought we were going into the city? Are we lost again? Or is this because you’re worried about finding somewhere to park? Because I can help you with the manoeuvres , I help my mom all the time and she’s only hit something twi-three times, and only one of those was another car and _anyway_ that’s because she doesn’t know left from right so-”

Steve rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. His nerves are making him tense, and the long drive with Dustin’s incessant chatter hadn’t helped.  
So he’s a little snappy when he replies,

“Just. Stop. Dustin. It’s an errand. A really quick one. Stay in the car, I’ll be, like, one minute, OK? One minute.”   
It comes out even harsher than intended, so Steve breathes out in a long exhale, and runs a hand through his hair to get himself back in control. He shoots an apologetic smile at Dustin, softening his tone,  
“Then you have me for the _whole_ day. I promise. Just let me, let me do the job we’re actually here for.”

Dustin gives him a sceptical look, a full on raised eyebrow, arms folded look,  
"You said we were going clothes shopping."

Steve stops at the entrance to the aquarium, wanting to kick himself. Or Dustin. Or the litter bin shaped like a shark with a big open mouth. Kick something, at least.   
Because he had said that. A suggestion that Steve could help Dustin to help 'tweak' his wardrobe and get a whole new look for high school. It'd been the first thing he could think of when Dustin’s initial eagerness had ebbed and he started asking for specific plans. Rather than kicking defenseless sartorially-challenged teens or equally defensive ocean predators, Steve fumbles for an excuse,  
"Shit. Er, would you believe me if I said girls go wild for a shark print shirt?" 

Dustin grins, "Coming from you? Probably."   
The sweetness of the remark is entirely overshadowed by Dustin's smirk, "But now I know you're lying."

"Ok, so maybe I lied a little…" Steve admits, "But I only need to go to the gift shop, we don't need to do the whole place."

Dustin’s skeptical face is replaced by a look of pure distress, 

"We came all this way? All this way and we’re not even going in? Steve c'mon, that's like going to Disneyland and leaving before you’ve been on Space Mountain. Which I had to do _by the way_ , because my mom and my cousins all have this weird inner ear thing and wouldn’t go on, and the guy wouldn’t let me ride by myself even though I explained how having an adult would make absolutely no difference to my safety, but then-”

Steve holds up a hand to cut him off,

"Ugh, fine. But lemme do this one thing first. And then we'll go in, for like a half an hour." 

They slip through the exit door and straight into the gift shop, Steve's eyes scanning all around for any narwhal themed items, while Dustin heads straight for a poster of ugly, deep-sea fish.

As soon as he’s sure that Dustin’s distracted, Steve makes his way to the register, catching the attention of a pretty girl with bright pink lipstick and a mane of crimped blonde hair.

  
“Hey, uh, hi. It’s me. Steve."

The girl behind the counter smiles, her eyes flicking up at down as she takes Steve in,  
“Hi Steve,” she leans forward over the counter, “I’m Cindy,”

“Erm, I’m uh. the, uh, the narwhal guy? I called? A few days ago? You said you had a keyring or something? A narwhal?” he tries again, and Cindy’s bubblegum smile grows even bigger,  
“Oh my god, I _wish_ Kirsty was here today. She swore you’d be some kinda freaky old guy. Can’t wait to tell her you’re actually kinda-”

She stops herself with a giggle, high pitched and clearly fake. Steve looks on, bemused as she tosses her hair back,  
“So, uh, yeah? You said there was a keyring?” he asks, and Cindy nods, flicking her hair and hardly taking her eyes from Steve as her hand reaches under the counter,  
  
“We’ve got two. Blue or pink?”

She holds the first one up, and Steve’s heart sinks. It’s not really what he’d been hoping for. It looks like what it is, a cheap gift clearly designed for little kids, a blue dolphin thing with a stubby sparkly horn. It’s plastic. Not exactly cuddly. Definitely nothing like Bubbles. He tries not to let the disappointment show as Cindy holds up the next one. The same thing, but in pink.  
It’s the closest thing he’s seen so far. And he’s running out of time.  
And maybe it's tacky enough to wrap right back around to cool. Maybe it's ironic, or cult or kitsch or some other weird thing that Robin has tried to explain but Steve never quite gets.   
But Billy would. 

“Blue. Please.”

Cindy smiles and rings it up for him, putting it inside a paper bag emblazoned with the aquarium’s shark logo.

"So, uh…can I ask something?" Steve starts, and Cindy pauses, her face lighting up.  
"Sure."

He's come all this way. He’s _got_ to.  
"Are they? Narwhals? Are they actually...real?"

Cindy giggles, that simpering, fake one again, but doesn't say any more, so Steve shrugs as he hands over the money before he scurries from the register, paper bag in hand, to find Dustin stroking the material of the most brightly coloured, garishly patterned shirt in the shop.

“Nope,” Steve insists, pulling him away, and Dustin follows with a very obvious glance back to the girl at the counter who gives him a cheery wave,

“She's _cute_ ,” Dustin’s whisper is louder and more obvious than his usual speaking voice, “Is that why we came all this way? For love? Did you ask her out?” 

"What? No!" Steve shakes his head, "I wasn't...she's not that cute. Is she?" 

The look Dustin gives him is equal parts withering and disbelieving.  
"Steve. She's cute. Like...like a blonde Molly Ringwald. And she works here so she's gotta be smart, right? Probably training to be a marine biologist or something. She the _whole_ package."

Steve ignores his leering voice, "Dude, she works in the _gift shop,_ I don't think she-"

"And she was totally flirting with you."  
  
That stops Steve right in his tracks.  
He hadn't even noticed.

*

The aquarium isn’t great. It’s more of a glorified pet shop with a couple of teeny sharks and crabs thrown in, but Steve figures that's what you get for being so far from any decent coast.   
Dustin goes on and on about all the different types of fish, and the ones that _look_ like they should be fish, but aren't. And the ones that definitely look more like rocks or plants but are actually animals. But then again, Steve's seen plenty of evidence of the weirdness of nature so he tunes him out and lets it all wash over him, only interrupting to point at the ugliest, weirdest looking fish in each tank and then say, _‘That’s you, that is’_ to Dustin.

Dustin doesn't really get the game. He either looks slightly annoyed at the interruption or goes on to lecture Steve about how _that's a compliment actually because that fish is a master of disguise so…_ and then Steve stops listening again.  
Billy would get it. He'd play along. He's the one who started the game in the first place, nudging Steve in the ribs as they were watching Big Trouble in Little China and gesturing to the weird hairy monster with a hand full of popcorn, “That’s you, that is,” he’d grinned, “First thing in the morning. Mouth wide open and hair all over.”

Then he’d laughed, a proper cackle that had him upending the rest of the popcorn over the sofa and then laughing again when he caught sight of Steve’s pout and folded arms. 

Billy had a fucking _gift_ for it, always finding the slimiest background alien or the goofiest looking animal in a commercial and getting his shot in before Steve had even noticed. Once, during a nature documentary, he’d nodded at a clip of two bright green birds snuggling together on a branch and whispered, “that’s us, that is,” and Steve had been so shocked, so utterly thrilled by the romance of the remark, that he wasn’t even offended when the scene changed and Billy pointed at a strange looking monkey and added, “And that’s you.”

Steve thinks about coming here with Billy. Or to a better aquarium. A proper one. One with actual sharks and weirder fish to point at and one that doesn’t make him feel sad for the poor landlocked creatures torn away from their homes. A nice one with open spaces and bigger tanks and one of those pools where you can pet a stingray. He thinks about sneaking a kiss, or even just a hand hold, in the darkness of a shark tunnel. Thinks about Billy's face lit up by the neon lights of a jellyfish tank. Thinks about being able to give him some part of the ocean he's so obviously been missing.

He fingers the paper bag, now balled up in his jacket pocket. He feels more confident about the dumb keychain now. It's small enough, and obviously cheap enough, that hopefully Billy won't feel under any pressure to pretend to like it. It's not romantic, not obviously, but Steve hopes Billy gets the meaning behind it. The shared joke. 

And it's not like an expensive pair of earrings ever helped with Nancy, so…

Dumb but thoughtful seems worth a shot.


	3. I Chews You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a shark.  
> But only just.  
> Light blue, like the keyring, but a lot bigger. Definitely cuddly. It's practically a sphere, a squishy round ball with only the mouth of triangular teeth and a shiny blue fin on the top to give any hint of its true nature.  
> And there's a little red heart on its side, just as squishy, and with 'I Chews You' in block capitals.
> 
> It's cheesy and awful and Steve hadn't been able to get it out of his head since he first saw it in Melvalds as part of their Valentine's display.

Steve and Billy end up with the whole house to themselves for Valentines Day, Steve's mom and dad deciding to spend the holiday ' _working on their relationship_ ' which, apparently, was going to take a very long weekend at a fancy hotel out in the middle of nowhere. 

Steve's not complaining. 

He is, however, complaining about his shift. And the fact that it causes him to get home a lot later than expected. Because of course it does. Because it's Valentine's Day, and Keith is bitter and he can fucking _sense_ that Steve has a whole romantic thing planned and he of course _has_ to sabotage it and make Steve reshelve the romance section at least three times, arranging the videos first by date, then by colour and then by some arbitrary order of ‘ _whether the guy actually deserved to get the girl at the end, and I will be asking for your reasons, Harrington’_

So when Steve gets home he’s tired. He’s stressed. He can feel some kind of pulsing headache threatening to build behind his eyes.

But it disappears the moment he walks through the door and steps carefully over the trailing wire of his boombox. Apparently, Billy has dragged it down from Steve’s room, _their room_ , to set it on the kitchen counter and fill the kitchen with music that, surprisingly, isn't Billy's usual cacophony of harsh guitars and shouting.  
Instead it's softer, melodic. Mushy, even.

 _The warmth of your smile, Smile for me little one  
_ _And this will be our year  
_ _Took a long time to come._

But Steve doesn't have time to dwell on that.  
Because Billy is standing at the stove with his back to Steve, barefoot in a pair of Steve's sweatpants, a T-shirt with a tiny hole under the arm and, most crucially, the strings of a yellow, frilly apron tied around his waist.

“Bee?” Steve asks, stepping closer. Something smells delicious and, when he hooks his chin over Billy’s shoulder, he spots the tell tale bubbling of his ultimate comfort risotto. The one with chunks of spiced sausage and splashes of red wine. The one he loves but never makes because it takes _ages_ and he always thinks about it too late. 

“Is that? Are you making _risotto?_ "

Billy turns around, a sheepish look on his face. “Yeah, uh...Happy Valentine’s? I guess...” He huffs out a laugh, the one that covers up a world of nervousness, and turns back to the pan, "I didn't really know what to get for you," he gestures around Steve's house without taking his eyes from the bubbling mixture on the stove, "you pretty much have everything, right?"

And Steve wants to rush forward, wants to tell Billy that _he_ is Steve’s everything. That he’s all Steve really needs. That he's given Steve so much already. Given him love and trust and put meaning back into his life. But he holds back. He can see that Billy's got more to say,   
  
"So. Yeah. I thought I'd make dinner. For you. Us. For once. I’m...I’m not expected back home tonight so…”  
He trails off, scraping the wooden spoon with a little more force than necessary, and Steve wonders if there’s more to that. Wonders if he should be asking, but then Billy’s continuing, “And the, uh, the tape's kind of a gift. So you have, y'know, something to. Have."

Steve lets his attention flick back to the music filling the kitchen.

"You got me a tape?"

Billy fishes into the pocket of the apron, pulling out an empty plastic cassette case and handing it over,  
"Here. I was gonna wrap it but, y'know, ambience."

He wafts his hand towards the stereo, distracted when the pan on the stove bubbles alarmingly and Billy turns back to it with a curse, grabbing for a wooden spoon, and Steve takes advantage of his distraction to properly look at the case in his hands.

Billy didn't just get him a tape. Billy _made_ him a tape.  
The cover is enough to give him pause, because Billy's clearly put a lot of effort in. It's covered with pictures. Some doodles, some collages made from magazine cut outs. At first glance, Steve can see an Ewok carrying an umbrella; a magpie carrying a cookie; the high score screen from an arcade machine with ASS 696969 at the top; a goat with music notes emerging from its open mouth; a cartoon of the two of them- Steve with cat ears and Billy with devil horns; a rooster smoking a joint; a stick figure Billy in a race car with a stick figure Steve as a flag girl; a pack of Crayola with the yellow crayon sticking out; a ghost with a leather jacket and a 1950s quiff.

All things that would be meaningless to most people, but every single one referencing some bizarre conversation they'd had over the last few months. The kind where they'd dance from subject to subject, making each other laugh and grin and groan.  
But it's the little doodle in the corner that has Steve's heart skipping.  
The heart with an arrow through it.   
And B&S underneath. A tiny scribble, but it's there.

And then Steve opens the case and takes out the insert.  
It's one of those folded ones, a concertina in his hand.  
And.  
Damn.  
  
He was only expecting a tracklist, but instead there's lines and lines of Billy's surprisingly neat handwriting.

 _'Harrington, Steve, Stevie...darlin’.  
_ _I'm shit with words. You know that. Shit with saying them out loud at least. But, damn, I used to at least be able to write them down.  
_ _But you've taken that too. Taken my words and my breath and, fuck Steve, you've taken my heart.  
_ _I might not say it. Not for a while.  
_ _But you gotta know I feel it. I want you to know, baby. Never want you to doubt it._

_So I'm gonna let these soppy idiots say it for me.’_

And then lyrics, so many lyrics.   
Billy's cherry-picked them, written out the lines he needed, certain words underlined or written in capitals drawing Steve's eye immediately.

_Sweet wonderful you. You make me happy with the things you do.  
_

_I was living like half a man, Then I couldn't love, but_ _NOW I CAN.  
_ _You pick me up when I'm feeling sad._ _More soul than I ever had._

 _Take my hand,  
_ _Take my whole life, too  
_ _For_ _I can't help falling in l ove with you  
_

 _Whenever I get weary and I've had enough. Feel like giving up  
_ _You know it's you, babe  
_ _Giving me the courage and the strength I need. Please believe that it's true  
_ _Babe, I LOVE YOU._

The list goes on. A mix of old songs and newer ones, all with lines and lines of lyrics, all about love, about the exact feelings Steve has too, ones that he’d thought had come too soon and that he'd trying to rein in.  
Steve can’t tear his eyes away from the words, his finger brushing over some of the ones he knows.  
It’s a lot. It’s so much of Billy, a whole side of him that he still isn’t quite ready to be open about, but he’s found a way to let Steve in anyway. Because he wants Steve to know.  
And it means so much that Steve’s heart is _aching_ , the emotion filling his chest, his lungs, his throat and threatening to spill from his eyes.  
Because no one’s _ever_.  
No one’s shown that to Steve before. Never let him in like that.  
He runs his fingers over the,  
 _I want you to know, baby. Never want you to doubt it._

And that’s the part that sends the tears falling. 

"Ok, so it's not burnt but it's- oh. Shit," Billy turns around from the stove, wooden spoon in hand and heat now turned off, and Steve looks up from the paper in his hands, fruitlessly wiping his eyes on his sleeve, but Billy's seen the tears already, and he's striding over, the fear growing on his face,

"Steve."

"Billy. I-”

“Shit. I didn’t think you’d see that bit. Not yet.”

Billy looks at Steve for a beat, but then his eyes drop to the floor and he wraps his arms around himself. He looks so worried, that Steve can’t help but step towards him and press their lips together, feeling the quirk of Billy’s mouth as he smiles into the kiss. Steve’s hand, the one not clutching the tape, reaches up to touch Billy’s cheek, fingertips caressing his skin and then moving to tug lightly at his curls as the kiss deepens, as Billy’s mouth opens to let Steve’s tongue slide in and Steve presses their bodies even closer.

It takes all he has for Steve to pull back, his eyes scanning Billy’s face for any remaining traces of worry. There’s still a flicker, a hint of doubt, a little crease in his forehead, and Steve’s determined to make it disappear,  
“I saw it, baby. And I love it. All those words, all those...everything. I love it.”  
Steve wants to say more. Wants to finish his sentence with those three words that have been on the tip of his tongue for weeks. But Steve can read Billy. Can tell by his quick nods and the way he’s pressing his lips together that he’s near some kind of limit. That he’s been prised open more than he expected and he’s raw now.   
So Steve holds back his words and just kisses him again. Softer this time, a brush of lips and Steve’s thumb rubbing along his cheekbone for a few seconds before he pulls away,

"I got you something too. It's not. God, it's not in the same league as this," he gazes at the cassette tape reverently, careful fingers folding up the insert and sliding it back in place with utter devotion.  
He looks up to see Billy's looking back at him with a smile, his face lit up.

"You got me something?"

He looks so eager, and that makes it worse. Steve can't bear to see his disappointment.

"It's dumb, really dumb. It's not-" Steve’s shaking his head, his hand pressing over the lump in his jacket pocket as if he could shove it away, turn it into something better, something that says everything he wants to like Billy did.

But Billy is stubborn, holding out his hand expectantly, "I don't care. I want it.

"No, Bill. It's…it's not enough, it’s-"

Billy cuts him of with a glare, making a grabbing motion with his hand, "Fuck off with that shit. Gimme my present." 

So Steve hands it over, the tiny package seeming even less now he has Billy's tape, and Billy's words, to weigh against it. He’s had it in his jacket pocket all day, and the pink heart-patterned wrapping paper is somewhat battered and torn, especially around the narwhal’s horn, making it look even more pathetic and shabby. He watches as Billy wiggles a fingernail into one of the rips, making it bigger, and Steve goes straight to damage control and starts to ramble,  
 _  
_"Ok, so it's not... It's not exactly what I wanted to-"

But then he sees Billy's face.  
How he's looking at the narwhal like it's the most wondrous thing on earth, like he can't quite believe what he's seeing. Billy's mouth flutters, and he holds the keyring so that the narwhal spins in the air, the sunlight catching its horn and making it shine with rainbows.   
  
"A narwhal?" Billy's voice is tiny, and Steve wonders if he's gone too far, "Steve you...how did you? Where?"

He’s smiling. Small but oh so real, and the wave of relief washing through Steve makes him feel a little light-headed,"

"It took some figuring out," Steve admits, "I called like, ten different shops and then I rang round so many aquariums and that was the only narwhal thing I could find. Maybe because they aren't actually, y'know, real."

He grins, and Billy tries to match it, but his smile wobbles and Steve moves forward to take him in his arms, his hand coming up to rest against Billy's cheek, fingers stroking at the slight scruff of stubble. Billy rests his forehead against Steve’s just for a moment, then he steps back- smile a lot stronger this time, and Steve watches as his eyes flick from Steve's face to the narwhal, up and down.

"God, Steve. He's perfect. And all that trouble? A fucking aquarium?" He holds the narwhal in his hand, squeezing gently, "I can keep this one safe," he murmurs softly, "Hidden. 's small. No one's ever gonna take it."

The comment wrenches at Steve's heart, but then Billy’s looking up at him again, smiling so brightly as he fishes his car keys from his jean pocket and hooks them onto the keychain with only a few fumbles, and it gives Steve the confidence to go through with the next step of his plan,

"So... uh, that's not...there's another thing, OK? Don't be...don't be mad." 

"Steve?"

"Don't be mad," Steve rushes upstairs and into the never-used guest room, returning with a large, round shape wrapped in the same heart patterned paper.  
He’d only grabbed this gift a day ago, picking it up on the way back from work and then wrapping it and hiding it before he could change his mind. 

He holds the package out in front of Billy, who eyes it with confusion,

“What’s this?”

“Well, y’see, I know it’s a brand new concept, but you can unwrap it and find that out for yourself.”

“Asshole,” Billy snatches the gift from Steve’s hands, and Steve watches with a grin as he lifts up a corner of the wrapping and peels it back carefully, his look of confusion only growing with every inch of blue fluff he reveals.

It's a shark.  
But only just.  
Light blue, like the keyring, but a lot bigger. Definitely cuddly. It's practically a sphere, a squishy round ball with only the mouth of triangular teeth and a shiny blue fin on the top to give any hint of its true nature.  
And there's a little red heart on its side, just as squishy, and with 'I Chews You' in block capitals.

It's cheesy and awful and Steve hadn't been able to get it out of his head since he first saw it in Melvalds as part of their Valentine's display. He’d laughed at it and then shook his head, but he was still chuckling half an hour later so he _had_ to go back buy it. And he knew it was terrible, and that Billy was almost certainly going to roll his eyes at it, but he couldn’t resist. 

So he watches Billy’s face, watches him figure out exactly what he’s looking at and then notice the heart on the side.  
The bark of laughter takes them both by surprise, 

"I Chews You? Steve that's fucking. God, you cheeseball, that's awful!" 

His ripple of laughter becomes a wave that sweeps them both up until they're both wiping tears from their eyes.  
Steve pokes a finger into the fuzzy blue orb in Billy’s hands.

"I know it's not a narwhal, but you were rooting for the shark when we watched Jaws so…"

"Damn right I was, " Billy smiles affectionately down at his shark, "shoulda closed the beach, shouldn't they? Poor thing was just hungry."

“Speaking of hungry…” Steve glances pointedly to the pan, threatening to bubble once more, and Billy licks his lips and winks,

"You getting ready for some of my sausage, Stevie?"

***

Billy's cooking is good.  
The risotto's not exactly how Nonna used to make it, and maybe it's the tiniest bit overcooked, but the meat is spicy and the rice is bursting with flavour and Billy clearly found some of Steve's mom's Lambrusco lying around.  
Steve would've gone in for seconds, thirds even, if not for the way Billy looks at him from across the dinner table, golden skin glowing in the flickering candlelight, lips stained red from the leftover wine they shared between them.  
  
And suddenly Steve's hungry for something else entirely.  
Billy must read his mind, see it in his eyes, smell it in the air. Something like that.  
Because his foot is creeping up Steve's leg, rubbing at the back of his calf, and he smirks,

"All fuelled up now, darlin’?"

They both push their chairs back at the exact same moment, so synchronised it feels rehearsed.  
And then Billy is striding over, pure lust in his eyes, but Steve doesn't miss the split second when his fingers tap lightly on the outside of his pocket, a quick check that his keyring is still there, still safe.

Steve thinks he might have one more gift for Billy tonight. And it’s a gift he's given before, and one that Billy always accepts so eagerly, but the shine never wears off this particular offering, and- really- he enjoys giving it just as much as Billy enjoys receiving it.  
But as they reach the bedroom, and Billy pushes Steve up against the wall before sinking to his knees, Steve realises that Billy's been reading his mind again. 

***

They leave the plates to soak.   
Steve’s proud of Billy for that, for not needing to scrub everything clean and put it all away immediately, but they still go down and tidy away a little, blowing out the candles that had burned down to stubs and finishing off the wine over an episode of _Charlie's Angels_ . At some point, during one of the commercial breaks, Billy wanders into the kitchen with their empty glasses, returning with the shark toy and placing it on his lap as they watch the last half of the show.   
He’s not _cuddling_ it exactly, but he runs his fingers along its fin and then rubs the bluff fluff of its body between his fingertips, and when the programs have given way to terrible infomercials and Steve switches off the television, Billy tucks the shark under his arm and brings it upstairs to bed, leaving it resting on the pillows while he and Steve get sorted in the bathroom.

He picks it up again as soon as they’re both settled in bed, lying on his back in the crook of Steve’s arm, the shark resting on his stomach, making a bulge in the blanket,  
"I don't think I can take this guy home,” Billy muses, squashing the shark between his palms, “Neil’ll have a fit. Wonder if I could stash him in the car? He’ll probably take up the whole damn backseat though,”

Steve pokes a finger into the shark’s soft belly. “Can’t have that. That backseat’s already reserved for other activities,” he winks, "He can always stay here, least until we get our own place and then-"

Shit.  
It slipped out. Steve didn't mean it. Except he did. Only. Not yet. Or at least, Billy probably doesn't want to hear it yet.

"Our own place?" Billy repeats it slowly, turning his head to stare at Steve with wide eyes. The shark in his hands makes the whole scene somewhat comical, but that does nothing for the hammering of Steve's heart. 

"You don’t have to-” 

“I want that.” 

Steve blinks at Billy, who repeats himself again, “I want that. A place. With you.”

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Billy turns towards Steve again, letting the shark roll away, and there's not even a second before Steve's wrapping an arm around him and pulling him in closer, pressing a kiss to his hair, his forehead, his nose- everywhere he can reach, his heart is overflowing with love and he’s so desperate to make sure Billy can feel it, can feel the utter _need_ Steve has to shower him with affection.

"Our own place," Steve whispers into his ear, "You want the whole white picket fence thing? Gonna wear an apron and have dinner on the table for me every night?"

Billy laughs, "Fuck that! I want a mansion. Indoor pool and a gym and one of those fancy twirly staircases right in the middle of the hall,” He wriggles back until he can look Steve in the eye, "and a chef and a maid and a fucking butler." He taps Steve playfully on the nose, "Gonna be a damn kept man, right? I've seen your trust fund."

"You've seen one of them," Steve joked, trailing his fingers over Billy's arm, "and you haven't seen the strings attached to it. Might have to start small, but we can probably swing to one of those blow-up kiddie pools?"

Billy laughs again, "Shit, and here's me thinking I was marrying into money. Damn it Stevie, thought you were gonna be my retirement plan," he looks up with a smile, leaning closer and pressing their noses together, his next words ghosting over Steve's lips. "Guess I gotta marry for love, then, like some kinda sap."

It's meant to sound casual, an off-hand remark, another teasing addition to a silly conversation.  
Because they can't marry.  
And it's too soon, definitely too soon to be talking about things like that.   
But Steve hears the truth in it. Hears the want in it. The want that mirrors his own. And when Billy moves back, Steve can see the openness in his eyes.  
He can't help himself.   
He links his fingers with Billy's, bringing them up to his lips and placing a delicate, but deliberate, kiss on the ring finger of Billy's left hand.

"'s what I plan to do," he murmurs.  
And of course it's too soon.  
Much too soon.  
But they've been through enough already. He's nearly lost Billy once. Lost him before he even had him.  
  
So. Better too soon than too late.

"I love you." Steve whispers.  
Simple. Clear. Undeniable.  
“I love you.” He says it again. 

Billy doesn't say it back. Steve's not expecting it. Doesn't need to hear it. He knows. He doesn’t doubt.  
Instead Billy kisses him. Long and slow and full of words unsaid.   
And then he presses his lips to Steve's fingers. To the ring finger of Steve's left hand.  
Presses three little kisses there.

It's enough. It's everything. 

Billy's quiet for a while after that, and Steve wonders if he's fallen asleep, but then there's a whisper, slurred with tiredness, 

"Wherslvis?"

"Huh?" Steve loves sleepy Billy. Loves hearing him try to keep the conversation going, fighting through sleep and yawns to have the last word. Loves that it's a side of Billy that no one else sees. Loves that Billy trusts him enough to let it show.  
But he's not exactly...coherent.  
  
"Elvis." Billy tries again, lifting his head slightly, "Whereshe?" 

"Oh!" 

Steve reaches a hand onto the nightstand, to pluck Elvis from where he'd been sitting, no longer relegated to a dark and dingy existence under the bed, "Here, you want him?"

Billy nods, taking the dog and rolling over to the space left on the other side of him. Steve's bed is big enough that, when they curl together like this, there's still plenty of mattress left unused. Normally they end up peeling apart in the night anyway, unsticking sweaty skin and untangled limbs to fill the leftover space, Steve stretching out on his stomach while Billy starfishes next to him, making sure they keep at least one point of contact- a toe touching a calf or two fingers linked together, neither one of them wanting to let go entirely.  
But right now, the space next to Billy is filled by the shark. Steve sits up to watch as Billy drapes Elvis over the other plushie, getting the two toys cuddled close together under the covers, before he scoots back into the warmth of Steve's arms.

“That’s us,” Billy explains in a voice thick with sleep, "Cuddlin’. In love." His lips quirk up in amusement, "You're the saggy one. 'M tough.”

Steve's heart fills with warmth, because it's dumb and it's sweet and it's sappy and it's all the things that Billy is starting to let himself be now.   
He presses another kiss to Billy's curls, listening to his breath get deeper and slower, feeling him sink further into Steve's hold as sleep finally takes him.  
Steve knows he's not far behind. He can feel it washing over him too, Billy's warmth and his scent and his huffed snores pulling Steve further and further down.  
  
But he resists, just long enough to feel Billy turning over, resting his back against Steve’s chest and to see him reaching across the mattress to drag the shark and Elvis in towards him, tucking them underneath his chin and holding them next to his heart. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me about Harringrove on Tumblr! I'm [CherryDreamer](https://cherrydreamer.tumblr.com/)


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